The last two are fast swats on the same cheek and all I can feel, and hear, and see is Dex. I’m smothered into his chest, my legs hedging both sides of his, and his cock is as hard as steel right where I need one to be.
“Go,” Madame Latex says, “Go take care of her.”
I don’t remember climbing down off the table, or who straightened out my dress. I can’t even explain how we both get back into this dark hallway. But I’m up against the wall, arching my back off it and Dex’s hands are on my throat and tangled into my hair. My lungs are knotted up into throbbing starving organs, my heart burns with heat, and the small space between us aches with emptiness. His mouth is breathing hot and heavy against my skin, but neither of us are taking the extra inch, neither of us willing to be the first to give in.
My body screams for me to move, begs me to run my hands up over his chest to pull him closer, but my head keeps me from making the mistake.
His lips brush over my cheek, the corner of my lip, soft and tempting. Then his head drops back and his voice shakes, “I think you should have enough to start your article, right Nash?”
I shift away. I need distance between us—a whole world between us.
“Yes. Definitely. The whole experience was a very informative one.” My voice trembles in the same way his did.
He doesn’t hold my hand as we walk through the hallway and the rest of the club. Wherever I turn my gaze, people are performing sexual acts, each moving in a lurid liquid slowness, like they know how to take their time and enjoy it all. I envy their freedom.
We’re out on the sidewalk and down the block before Dex stops me. “Nash, let me get you a cab home.”
I look up at him, and his face shows nothing. No signs of being torn in two like me. This is probably a regular weekend thing for him. Maybe he wants to go back inside? “I think I’m going to walk and start outlining my thoughts and words in my head.”
“Nash—”
I don’t want him to say any more. I don’t want him to reject me or tell me anything that will make me feel bad. “This was a fun night. Let’s end on a good note. Thank you. Thank you for taking me, and getting me dressed up and keeping me safe.” And then I wave and walk away. I don’t dare turn around to see if he walks back into the sex club. I don’t care, it’s Dex.
I don’t care at all.
Chapter 22
On Saturdays, the liquor store up the street from me opens at noon, and today I’m their first customer. My plans for the day are quite lofty: drink tons of wine and read the newest psychological thriller to hit the bestsellers list in one sitting. I’ve already hit Strand Bookstore on 12thStreet and Broadway and they pointed me to what promises to be an enthralling read. I skimmed the first three pages, like I always do to try a taste of the writing, and I got sucked in big time. It’s been an hour and I’m still wondering what could possible happen to the girl on the first page.
Basically, I’m addicted.
I roam the aisles of the store, browsing all the pretty bottles, reading the names. I like wines with personality. Fat Bastard, Arrogant Frog, Mommy’s Time Out, and of course my very favorite, Ménage à Trois, which I grab two reds of, since this book won’t start reading itself.
“Another fiction-filled Saturday night for you, miss? What are you reading this day?” The woman behind the counter asks, like she usually does. She keeps talking about starting a book club in the back of the store on a weeknight, but so far, it’s never happened.
I hold the book up for her to see and she grimaces. “I like the books with the naked men on the covers better. I like to read about all the sex I’m missing out on.”
Anything I respond to that will cause way too much personal information to be told to me. I know for a fact she’s married to the owner and I don’t want to hear anything about their mating habits.
“It’s never the same after children. Do you have kids?” she asks. She always asks. I don’t know why she thinks I’ll change my answer as I seem to still be purchasing alcohol to drink while reading at home, alone.
“No, no kids.”
“Well, you’re lucky. And let me give you advice. Don’t. They ruin your life and your private areas. I haven’t felt anything down there in years. And my husband’s no help—”
I slide two twenties toward her and hurry to the door. “Keep the change, Mina. And good luck with…all that.” I get to the corner and realize she probably does that to me every time to get the extra money I throw at her.Seriously, I just gave her fifteen extra dollars. She’s probably planning some extravagant trip to the Fuji Islands and I’ve paid for a quarter of it.
By nine o’clock at night, I’ve drunk a whole bottle of wine and I’m cradling the book to my chest, feeling the weight of one of the biggest book hangovers ever.
I’m also bug-eyed from reading all-day and bored. Julia texted me last night while I was out at the club that she was out for the weekend. She didn’t ask me about what happened at the club, nor did she ask me to watch her cat, which come to think of it, I’ve yet to actually see.
Maybe her and Nate are spending another romantic,nicegetaway in the Hamptons and they took the new pussy. I shelve the new book and walk around my apartment. I don’t feel like watching a movie alone. I could start writing the article I sketched out last night, but the words just kind of flowed out of me then but I’m not really in the mood to work now.
I slump onto the couch and open my laptop and scroll through Facebook, liking and commenting and posting my thoughts. Of course, I pull up Nate’s page. He went to a baseball game today. He posted a few pictures of him and a friend holding up beers. I stare at his gorgeous face in all the images.
I never realized before, but his nose is the slightest bit crooked. I also notice Julia isn’t in any of the photos. She probably didn’t go with him; she’s never one to say no to a picture so I doubt she was there.
I guess they didn’t go the Hamptons together.
